Lost
by A lost lily
Summary: Dean is the glue of the Winchester family. He just wants John and Sam to get along, but one particularly bad fight leaves Sam running off to pout and Dean going after him. What happens when Dean gets hurt? How will the family cope? Hurt!Dean
1. Lost

There was no question about it, Dean Winchester was the glue that held his family together. At 17 years old, he could cover his father's back in a hunt better than hunters twice his age. He knew more about mythology and creature lore than most professors did. He was the one that was there for his little brother more often than not.

He was also unemployed. A high school drop out with only the slightest hope to go back and get his GED. A chronic womanizer with no intention of ever settling down. A wanderer. A liar. A wanted man in over half of the united states for arson, grave desecration and assault and battery.

On a good day, he could tell himself that that was just a part of the territory when it came to being a hunter. On a good day Dean could convince himself that it was all worth it because eventually all of the hard times and stitches and dislocated fingers would lead to them tracking down their mother's killer. On a good day he could even remember the sunshine that had been Mary Winchester, he could practically feel the way her soft, golden hair fell into his face as she kissed him goodnight and remember the way that she always smelled like strawberries.

But not every day was good.

Sam and John were arguing in the kitchen, which was exactly why Dean was watching TV in the living room. The reception was piss poor, and he saw more snow and static than the Dallas game, but it was better than having to hear every single word of the fight.

Dean hated it when his Dad and brother fought. It filled him with panic that facing down the monsters never could. Couldn't they see that fighting like that wasn't doing anyone any good? Dean could cram all of his worldly possessions into one old duffle bag, his home was an antique car, and the only family he had left was determined to fight until they were all left with nothing.

The opposing team ran for a touchdown and Dean swore violently, not angry at the change in the game's score as much as he was with the way his life was turning into such a disaster.

"FINE." Sam shouted. "You go on to Nebraska, I'm staying here. I have a life here, Dad. Friends. Why can't you just let me be normal for once? It's like you want me to be some kind of a freak like you, to drop out of school and forget everything except how to load a 22."

"I want a life for you, boy, but we have a responsibility here! We have a new lead on the thing that took your mother from us, and if we sit on our hands it's going to move on. The time to think about school and girls and sports is AFTER we take care of this. It's our fight, and I'll be damned if I let it hurt someone else."

"Mom's gone!" Sam drew a few unsteady breaths after his shouted outburst, looking a little surprised at his own outburst. Dean sat up, staring at his brother open mouthed. Sam had never, never talked to their Dad like this before. "She's gone, Dad, and nothing we do is gonna bring her back. You think she'd want us—"

"That's Sam." John roared, but Sam seemed intent to keep on with his outburst. It seemed that once the levee broke, and the emotions he had been keeping bottled up inside broke free, nothing could stop them.

"Running all over the country? You think she'd want us giving up our lives for something that wasn't going to do a damned thing for her?"

"Watch it boy, you're treading on dangerous ground." John's voice was quiet, dangerous and crackling with electricity like the air before a lightning storm.

"Sam..." Dean's voice was low, trying to make peace between the two._ If I was a country,_ Dean thought to himself_ I wouldn't get to be one of the cool ones. I'd be fucking Switzerland._

"And YOU." Sam turned angry eyes to Dean. "I'm sick of you always siding with him!"

"I don't, I just..."

"Just what, think it's time to move on too? It's not like you have school or anything here to tie you down. It's always easier when you quit, isn't it?"

"Sam, don't be a dick, I..."

"You ALWAYS side with him, Dean. You ALWAYS follow his orders like a good little soldier, do you even think for yourself anymore, is that why you dropped out?"

"Goddamn it, Sam, that's enough!"

John's roar broke off the argument, and Sam looked from one to the other, breathing hard as he tried to think about what to do. He was so angry he could barely see straight, let alone think, so he did the one thing that seemed to make any sense and turned around, going out the back door.

"Sammy..." Dean called after him, not sure of what to say.

"It's SAM." Sam called back, anger clear.

Dean sighed. His head was aching, his pride stung and now he had to go after Sam before he did something stupid. Sometimes the day just got better and better. His birthday was coming up in 2 days, and he'd be 18, was it really too much to ask that his brother and father got along until then?

"I'll go after him, Dad." Dean said automatically, pausing just long enough to reach for his jacket. "Don't worry, I'll bring him home safely."

The longer Sam walked, the more he felt stupid for blowing up like that. It was true, he did like this town, but he had known from the start that they weren't staying here more than a few weeks. There was a pretty blonde in this town that he was pretty sure had a thing for him, but she was no more or less prettier than girls in every other town along the way. Soccer tryouts would be in a few weeks here, but there would no doubt be soccer try outs in the next town. There were a few good teachers here, particularly a history teacher that talked about politics and law in a way that made it sound fascinating, but he had found a good teacher in nearly every little town they were marooned in for a few weeks or months. The only thing that had changed was him.

He was terrified. It was in the last town that Dean had dropped out. A hunt went wrong and John cracked a couple of ribs and needed someone to do more of his legwork when it came to hunts. Though John had been against Dean dropping out, Dean just couldn't manage full time school and full time hunting, and as he put it, a diploma was just a piece of paper. Hunting was an education in and of itself. Sam knew that Dean was embarrassed about dropping out, and that he had only done what he had to. He knew that Dean wanted to graduate, to get a good job, to have a home the same way that anyone would.

Sam had crossed a line by bringing Dean into the argument, and the longer he walked, the more he felt like a jackass. Dean was always full of smartass one liners and pranks, but never had he done or said anything to intentionally hurt his little brother. He stuck up for him to John, he stood up for him when bullies in town got a little too violent, and he was always there for Sam.

When Sam was sick, Dean was the one who made sure that he had chicken noodle soup. When Sam needed to study for a test, Dean was the one grilling him over the study guide. When Sam was tired, Dean was the one who did his half of the chores and prep work for hunts and covered for him. When their funds ran low as they waited on John to return from a hunt, Sam knew that Dean always gave him more than the lion's share of their food. Dean made sure that his shoes were replaced first, Dean made sure that he had clothes to wear, that he had a lunch to take to school and a ride there and back. Dean was his brother, but he was also a hell of a lot like a father.

Yes, the longer Sam walked, the more he started to feel like the world's worst brother. He looked down at his watch. Three hours had passed since he stormed out of the house, and he was only a few blocks away. Knowing that his dad and brother would probably only get more pissed and worried as time went on, Sam turned toward the house.

He shut the door quietly, expecting to see both Dean and John at the kitchen table waiting for him, but only John was there, looking like a nervous wreck.

"Where's your brother?" he asked, the words frightened and free of anger.

"What? He was here..."

"He went after _you_, Sam, and I'm afraid something got him."

Just like that, Sam's whole world fell apart.

Dean shivered, pushing his hands further into his pockets. Searching for Sam would have been easier in a car, but the Impala had a distinctive rumble to its engine, and Dean was worried that Sam might hide from it. He could see where the kid wouldn't want to talk, but their motel was cheap and not in the best neighborhood. He could pout just as well at home as he could walking around like some emo kid.

He spotted a convenience store that promised to have a pay phone inside and trudged warily inside. The clerk behind the counter looked nervous, and Dean assumed she had probably seen the handgun tucked into a pocket of his jacket. Damn, he was going to have to be more careful next time. He flashed her a smile that he hoped she would take as nonthreatening and walked toward the back, where the phone was.

He deposited a couple of quarters, paying no attention to anything in the front of the store. Normally he would have been watching everything, but worry for Sammy was overriding everything.

"Yeah?"

Dean sighed when he heard John's voice. Still pissed, but not quite pissed enough to indicate that Sam was back. "Dad, I looked all over. I can't find him. I think I'm going to circle back along the back alleys and see if..."

"Alright, pretty boy, time's up."

The phone fell from his hands. Dean spun around quickly, seeing a man in a ski mask with a gun pointed at his chest. _Shit..._

"Give me your wallet. NOW."

Dean didn't hesitate. He knew if he reached for the gun the guy would shoot, no questions asked, so he reached for the wallet slowly and reached out to hand it to the gunman. It wasn't a great loss anyway, just a few fake credit cards and a couple of wrinkled ones.

"DEAN."

Dean could hear his father screaming through the phone terror clear in his voice.

"Easy..." Dean said, extending his hand to bring the wallet closer to the gunman. "you don't want to shoot anyone, pal. Just take the money and split, ok?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tall, towheaded boy walking toward the convenience store.

_Sammy, no..._

The gunman looked nervous, like he could fire at any second as he reached for the wallet, and Dean knew that he had to take him down before his brother came into the store. He couldn't risk Sam getting shot, couldn't risk losing him to a freak wrong place at the wrong time encounter like this.

The gunman took the wallet, and turned, intent on leaving the store just like Dean had told him to. The kid kept getting closer and closer, and though he was still too far away for Dean to see his face clearly through the smudged glass, he knew he had to do something. If the thief went outside, still armed, and saw Sam approaching, he'd assume the worst, and no doubt fire.

Dean didn't think he charged. He tackled the gunman and for several long minutes the wrestled for control of the gun. However, the thief had about five years and a good fifty pounds on Dean, and before Dean knew it he saw the gun turning toward him.

The gun exploded, and for a full minute all Dean saw was pain. The thief scrambled to his feet and fled the store.

"Mama!" Dean shifted his gaze from the ceiling to the door. The towheaded kid he saw approaching the convenience store was there, hugging the cashier for dear life.

_Not Sam. Thank God not Sam._

"I saw that guy tackle the other guy, and I was afraid to come in, and then I saw the bad guy in the ski mask run away and I was so worried you were hurt..."

It was good, Dean decided, that he gave the kid some kind of head's up. Maybe karma would be kind enough to do the same for his brother, wherever he was, and steer him in the right direction.

_Sam...What I wouldn't give to see your weird looking face right now little brother. I never thought I'd be kicking the bucket in a convenience store on tiles that smell like a urinal all alone_

"DE-!" He could hear his father still shouting his name on the other line, and it comforted him right up until his money ran out and it cut off. He contemplated trying to crawl over to the phone and say something to John, but he didn't have the strength. In fact, right now it was hard enough just to breathe.

"Stay here, sweetie. Use the phone under the register to call 911." he could see the cashier kissing the top of her son's head. "I'm going to go check on that man."

The woman was little older than a girl but she bravely walked over to Dean and knelt down next to him. "Help is on the way, sir. Is there someone I can call for you?" Tears came to her eyes, but she tried to blink them back. "I owe you so much, if that man had gone out there and shot my Thomas..."

He opened his mouth, but his tongue felt thick and sluggish. He coughed, and the moment he tasted the hot, metallic substance he brought up he knew he was in trouble. "Sammy. Tell Sammy I..." He realized she had no way of contacting Sam, or his father. He was too weak to tell her the phone number to the motel, and his wallet was gone with the mugger. Well Dean wasn't a quitter, he was going to try. "5...72-8..." His eyelashes fluttered, and though Dean tried to hold on to give her the final three digits, it was no use. His head fell slack to the side as the young woman who stood in the middle of his pool of blood began to tremble. She was nearly certain she was seeing her first dead body and she was terrified.


	2. Adrift

WOW. I cannot begin to explain how grateful I am for all of your kind reviews. They definitely spurred my muses into overdrive, which means a new chapter several DAYS sooner than I expected to crank one out. You guys rock. On a related note, thanks to the reviewer who clued me in to my mistake. I thought towheaded meant shaggy haired, not blonde. Silly me :P Also, for those curious, this is NOT a death fic...we just like to skate close to the edge every now and then :D Now, on with the show!

* * *

The silence in the car was tangible, and hung between the oldest Winchester and the youngest like a thick blanket. Normally Sam made a huge production of trying to fight Dean for shotgun, and if Dean wasn't there he always rode in the front seat, but this time he was in the back, as though by the act of reserving the front for Dean he could make everything ok.

"Dad, tell me again what you heard."

John turned an annoyed look to his son in the rearview mirror. This wasn't, of course, all Sam's fault. Sam had been acting like an immature child, but how was he to know that Dean would meet trouble while looking for him? There was no way for him to know, and snapping at him now wasn't going to solve anything, but damned if that wasn't exactly what John wanted to do. Those traumatic minutes of listening to the thief steal Dean's wallet, followed by the unmistakable roar of a gun and silence were etched in his memory forever, and the last thing he wanted to do was recount them over and over again with Sammy.

Goddamn it, John thought, they didn't even have any clue of where to start looking. That was going to be his first lesson to the boys in the future, he thought. Start each conversation out with your location, and go from there.

"Dad..." Sam pressed.

John opened his mouth, nearly ready to explode, but the one more look at Sam in the mirror stopped him. Sam's shaggy hair fell into his eyes and made him look like he was five years old, even if he was getting taller by the day. He was just a kid, doing the best that he could to find a way to get his big brother back.

"The phone rang. It was your brother. He said he still couldn't find you, but that he was going to look into a few back alley places, and then I heard another voice, a guy, demand his wallet. Dean told him to be calm, and I guess handed his wallet over, then there was a scuffle and s—GODDAMN IT."

John slammed on the breaks, nearly hitting the bawling woman who had thrown herself out into the street instead of just waving from the side of the road for help.

"What are you trying to do, woman, get yourself killed?"

"Please, you have to help..." She motioned at a gas station behind her, where a boy about Sam's age was standing behind the counter looking white as a ghost.

"Ma'am, we're looking for my son. I don't think we have time t—"

"No, please!" She raked a hand through her hair, looking seconds away from a severe mental breakdown.

Suddenly, for no reason that he could place, Sam got a feeling that he had never had before. It was a sinking, dreadful sort of feeling that made him feel a rush of adrenaline and nausea at once. Though he didn't know how he knew, suddenly he did know with every fiber of his being that Dean was here, and they weren't going to like what they saw.

John was still arguing with the woman, his car blocking the lane of the street when Sam opened his door and barreled out, racing into the store. He could hear the frustration in his Dad's voice as he shouted for him to come back, but Sam ignored it. He had to get into the store.

He ignored the boy behind the counter, even though he looked like he was in shock. Two feet down an aisle he saw the bloody footprints, and even though his heart was hammering in his throat, he followed them.

He followed them to Dean.

The sight of his brother was horrific at best.

Dean Winchester was never still. He was always talking or laughing or moving, or fiddling with something. Even in sleep he tossed and turned and snored...but now he was laying completely still. His face was so pale it was almost white, and when you considered the small lake of blood Dean was laying in, Sam had to wonder if Dean had any blood left at all.

Sam watched him, waiting on Dean to take a breath.

He waited.

And waited.

But Dean only continued to lay completely motionless.

"Dean..." Sam whispered, anguish clear in his voice. "Dean come back."

But Dean Winchester, wherever he was, showed no sign of hearing him.

Sam wasn't sure how long it took for John to decide to park the car and come inside, but when the bell above the door rang and he felt his father's imposing presence come in the store, he was grateful that he had. He turned around, locked his tearfilled eyes on John, and somehow managed to voice the fear that was gripping him so tightly he could barely breathe himself.

"Dad, Dean's dead."

* * *

It took John forever to get the car parked and shake himself free of the woman, but several long minutes after Sam had taken off into the store, he finally was ready to get out of the Impala. What had gotten into that kid? He knew better than that, didn't he? He had been raised to know better than that, that was for damned sure. However, once he was in the store, and saw the bloody footprints, something within him changed, and he reached instinctively for his gun.

When he saw Dean laying there, so pale and still, his heart stopped for a moment, and when Sammy told him Dean was dead, something within him broke.

No.

No, they weren't going to lose Dean too. Wasn't it enough that Mary had been taken from them? Sam lost his Mom before he was even old enough to remember her, the kid deserved to at least have his big brother. John knew that Dean was the most important person in his son's life, and he had no qualms in admitting it. Dean was the father figure who taught Sammy how to ride a bike. He was the mother figure who made the boy mac and cheese. He was brother and friend and confidant and opponent when it came to games...Dean was Sam's everything, and he meant a hell of a lot to John too. John couldn't just let him die.

"No, no, Sammy, he's not dead. He's not, don't you say that..." even to his own ears the denial felt like an after the fact protest, like too little too late.

He knelt down next to his son, fingers searching Dean's neck frantically for a pulse. It was there, but it was thready and fading fast. He looked to Sam, who was standing eerily still, shock and horror rapidly setting in to his face.

Dammit.

"Come on Dean, breathe!" John shook Dean's shoulders, then took in a large breath of air and blew into Dean's mouth. He did it again and again, over and over as his own heart started to hammer in his chest. The seconds turned in to minutes as he gave breath after breath to his son, practically willing the life back into him. This wasn't fair, John thought. Dean wasn't even a legal adult yet. He gave his whole life to help others, to save other families. He deserved a freaking medal, not to die here like this. Parents were supposed to go first. They weren't supposed to bury their kid. He was going into full panic mode, until he drew back to take another breath to give Dean.

"Come on, Dean, come on. You don't get to do this. You don't get to quit, you come back now, son, you hear me? Breathe. Take a breath." He shook his son roughly, trying to illicit some sort of response. If Dean didn't breathe on his own soon, his heart was going to stop, and if it stopped John could do CPR, but Dean's odds of making it were going to go down and fast.

That was when he heard the cough.

It was tiny and weak, and woefully ineffective by the sounds of it, but it was a sign of life where there had been precious little before. It was also enough to break the spell of shock that Sammy seemed to be under.

"DEAN!" his youngest rushed forward, sliding on the wet, bloody floor, but he didn't care when he went down because Dean was perking up. The cough led way to a ragged breath and then to Dean's eyes opening. "Dean!"

"Sam?" One corner of Dean's mouth turned up in a lopsided smile. "Sure am glad to see you, kiddo, I was worried about you."

There was a lot of irony there, the the one who had been shot and was now bleeding out was worried about him, but Sam knew that was just Dean. Dean was always trying to look out for him, always worried that Sam might be sick or hurt or unhappy.

"I'm so sorry." He said, looking down at Dean with frightened eyes. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I shouldn't have said it. I want to take it back Dean."

* * *

Dean was hovering some place in between comforting darkness and the place with bright light and pain when he heard his father's voice in full on order mode.

I'm so tired, he thought. I know I should obey, but I'm just so fucking tired. Can't I just rest? Rest for a little while?

Evidently the answer to that question was no, because John shook him hard.

He tried to breathe, but the coppery gunk was in his throat again, so he coughed, bringing up a little of it, then took a breath, just as John had ordered. He stared up at the florescent lighting on the ceiling and tried to catch his breath.

And then he saw Sam. His kid brother looked near tears and frantic, but he was safe and unshot and that was the important part. Dean couldn't help but grin. Sam was his brother and he loved him, and even when he was acting like a jackass and running off to go do stupid things, Dean didn't want anything to happen to him. That was why Dean bothered to go after him, why he walked in the cold, why he took time away from relaxing or sleeping or watching TV to try to repair wounds from a fight he had had no part in.

He told Sam how happy he was to see him, and looked away. John ordered him to breathe, and now he was breathing. Surely they wouldn't care if he took just a little nap...

However, before his eyes could even shut Sam was babbling on and on in an apology. What was it he wanted to take back? Why was he sorry? He knew that he should remember these things, but suddenly his mind felt foggy and unworkable. And the exhaustion increased tenfold.

" 's ok, Sammy." Dean muttered, confused as to why it was such a struggle to even speak. "Whatever it was, it's o-"

Dean trailed off, his eyes rolling back as his head lulled to the side.

* * *

John swore and reached again to Dean's neck, seeking the comforting reassurance of some sort of pulse. He tried several different spots, pressing his fingers hard into Dean's skin in the vain hope that one was there only very weak, but there was nothing.

"Dammit, boy, don't you die on me. You hear me?" John started compressions on his son's chest, forcing himself to not stop when he heard the unkind crack of bone from his actions. He had to get Dean's heart going again. They could worry about broken ribs later. "Come on, Dean, come on, you fight this. You're stronger than this."

* * *

Sam watched the horrific scene in shock. He saw his father get more and more covered in Dean's blood as he pressed on the chest that looked like ground up meat as it was. He saw Dean's lips turn blue, and his nail beds turn a grayish pink color. He heard the ambulance sirens, but he didn't place where they were coming from until two stocky men shoved him out of the way and wheeled a stretcher over to Dean. Sam could tell from their expressions that even they had never seen something quite so gut wrenching before.

Somehow, one of them managed to pull John off of Dean.

"That's my boy." John told the man desperately. "You fix him. You bring him back. He doesn't deserve this." The paramedic said something to John in a low, gentle tone, then John went to stand next to Sam, looking as though he was going to be ill any minute.

Sam watched it all. He was afraid to come any closer to Dean, afraid that somehow he'd make matters worse or get in the way. He was afraid that he'd say the wrong thing again, just as he'd said the wrong thing the last time he talked to Dean before he stormed out. Sam was shutting down, locking himself inside until things made more sense.

"Still no pulse." One of the paramedics commented when the other took a momentary break from the compressions to see if Dean's heart was going to restart. "I think this is a lost cause but, let's get him into the ambulance, give the kid a fighting chance."

The other paramedic, clearly more aware of the two men watching at the side, shot the first a harsh look. "If we can get him into surgery fast enough, Perkins, the kid might have a chance so zip your trap and move your ass."

There was nothing John and Sam could do as the paramedics lifted the stretcher up and started jogging with it out toward the ambulance. John followed them, and Sam followed numbly behind John, but the paramedics refused to let either of them come, somehow sensing that the ride to the hospital would be something that neither family member could tolerate seeing.

When the ambulance pulled away, it was carrying Dean, the heart of the Winchester family, and as John and Sam stood numbly as the red and blue lights faded in the distance, Sam wondered if there would be any family left if Dean was gone.


End file.
